


Just A Fool In Love With You

by Arlene0401



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Pining, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Voice Kink, dorky jean, fluff for weeks, god it´s so cheesy, like he really loses his shit around Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/pseuds/Arlene0401
Summary: Senior year will be Jean´s year. Hell yes. Or so he thinks until he lands flat on his ass in front of an angel´s feet.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fanbulance_Alert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanbulance_Alert/gifts).



> Happy birthday to Fanbulance_Alert! Friendo, over these last months you have become such an important part of my life and I can´t thank you enough for everything you do.

Jean checked his appearance in the mirror for one last time. First day after summer break was of utmost importance, it would set the tone for the whole school year. And this year, his last high school year, he would shove it down their throats for good what a suave motherfucker he was. That’s right. This year, a significant number of panties would get wet over Jean Kirstein.

 

Over summer break, he had worked out, tanned, grown out his hair and gotten some piercings. Tragus, snug, lobe, helix. Lower lip, tongue and left eyebrow. Vampire bites. He studied the assortment of gleaming metal, the fringe that hung casually into his eyes. Beanie, loose t-shirt with a wide neckline, cardigan, tight low-riding pants. Sneakers.

 

Satisfied, he slung the backpack over his shoulder, snatched his thermos coffee mug and left the house, hollering a goodbye to his mother. The sun was shining, and his car started at the first try. Yep. This was going to be Jean Kirstein’s Year. Buckle up, ladies and gentlemen.

 

Jean identified as pansexual, or, as Eren put it, “you’d bonk anyone who’d let you.” Fucking Eren Yeager of all people, whose ongoing infatuation with Mr. Ackerman was as pathetic as painfully obvious. But no, he wouldn’t let Yeager lure him into any more petty, childish arguments. About to turn 18 in April, Jean was far too mature and smart for that. He’d simply ignore that bastard’s braying and stick to less abrasive people. Who knew, maybe there would even be some new students? Hopefully someone  _ delectable _ .

 

Whistling to some  _ twenty øne piløts _ tune he pulled into the school's parking lot, locked his car and walked - no, strutted - to the schoolyard. The benches where his friends always assembled just came into view and he mentally prepared for their doubtlessly impressed and envious stares when something slammed into his side, effectively knocking him over.

 

Jean staggered and landed on his ass in the middle of the schoolyard, hot coffee from his mug spilling all over his shirt and pants. Giggles and laughter broke out everywhere, and through a red haze of shame and rage Jean saw Mikasa hurry towards him with a concerned look. Long before she was near, however, a hand came into his field of vision.

 

It was held out to help him up. Jean´s gaze followed rather short, thick fingers, a hand dappled with freckles, a strong-looking forearm (tanned and freckled on the outside, paler on the inside, he couldn't help noticing) disappearing into a sleeve. Hand-owner stood in front of the sun, so north of the upper arm Jean had to squint and still only saw a haloed silhouette.  _ Just like in any cheesy rom com _ , he silently snickered to himself, accepted the hand and let himself be dragged up. Standing, he found that he was nearly level with hand-owner, who was maybe an inch taller than himself. Now he could see his saviour clearly. Jean´s jaw dropped.

 

The guy was  _ gorgeous _ . Perfect oval face, dark doe eyes, high cheekbones, a mouth that seemed ready to smile and laugh anytime, and a nose that couldn't be described other than  _ cute _ . All crowned with shining dark hair and, just like the arm, lavishly covered in freckles, mainly across the nose and cheeks, although Jean's eyes involuntarily dropped to his neck and noted that even on the slightly paler skin there were a few tiny dots.

 

_ Oh fuck does he have freckles everywhere oh fuck stop that fuck fuck fuck _

 

“Did you hurt yourself?” Hand-owner asked, and  _ lord help me _ wasn't that just the sweetest, mellowest voice Jean had ever heard. “Damn kids with their skateboards, didn't even turn his head after knocking you over. Are you okay now? Here's your coffee mug, although I fear it's empty now. And hi, I´m Marco.”

 

Jean still only stared at Hand-owner-whose-name-was-Marco, thoughts moving with glacier-like speed and finally coming up with the helpful suggestion that maybe an answer was expected.

 

“Oh, er, I´m. Hi. I´m pan.”

 

A tiny frown crossed Marco´s forehead. “That´s, uhm, an unusual name… well, pleased to meet you.”

 

“Jean! Everything alright?” Mikasa asked as she arrived, Eren trailing behind. She glanced at Marco and nodded an acknowledgement. “Hi.”

 

“Jean?” Marco frowned again. “Didn’t you say Pan?”

 

“Uh, no, my name is Jean, but I, erm, I’m…”

 

Eren laughed and slung an arm around his neck. “He’s pansexual,”, he explained to Marco. “Basically, he’s so desperate that if you’re not up in the trees at the count of three he’ll fuck you.” He held out a hand, ignoring Jean’s grumbled “Shut it, Yeager”. “I’m Eren.”

 

“Marco.” He accepted the hand, but still eyed Jean with a mixture of wariness and amusement. Mikasa, too, introduced herself and asked which class Marco would be in. It turned out that he’d be in their class, having had to change high schools for his senior year because his family had to move. 

 

Jean merely listened to the conversation, head hung low and feeling the coffee seep through his clothes. Now he’d have to sit a whole day through classes with soggy, stained clothes. Just great. All the pain and work and struggles of summer for naught. 

 

When the bell rang, they ambled slowly towards the building, letting the younger students rush ahead. Jean found Marco walking by his side and pulling a t-shirt from his backpack.

 

“Here, I usually have a spare shirt on me. It’s nothing stylish, but it’s clean. I think you’ll feel better when you changed. Nothing we can do about your pants, although,” he leaned forward to matter-of-factly scrutinize Jean’s crotch, “they’re black, so once it’s halfway dry it won’t be noticeable.” He handed the shirt to Jean with a bright and innocent smile. Then something devious crossed his face. “Besides, it would be a shame to change these jeans.”

 

Jean stopped dead in his tracks. Had he… was this guy flirting with him? But no, his expression had gone back to warm and friendly. 

 

He detoured to the toilets and changed his shirt. It was… unsettlingly intimate to wear someone else’s clothes, a stranger to boot. Marco was only insignificantly taller than Jean but heavier, so his t-shirt was rather baggy. Jean dabbed off his jeans with paper towels as best as he could and headed to his classroom. He slinked in, mumbled an excuse and looked for a free seat. Eren had taken seat next to Marco, sticking his tongue in his cheek at Jean, but Mikasa had held a space for him.

 

Jean hadn’t intended to sit next to Eren, rather planned on staying away from him if possible, but seeing him next to the new student pissed him off. He could only imagine the amount of bullshit Yeager would spew, and most probably about him.

 

Jean spent most of the next periods straining his ears for Eren’s mumbling and getting increasingly irritated every time Marco laughed or smiled at Eren.

 

At lunchtime, however, Marco hunted down Jean in the corner where he had buried himself. After some general chitchat about the school and the town Marco hesitated. “I wanted to apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. I promise I wasn’t trying to hit on your boyfriend, and I’ll keep more of a distance if it upsets you.”

 

“Wait, what.” Jean groaned. “Just… wait. Oh my god. What has Eren been telling you?”

 

“Uh, basically he was drooling over how awesome you are, and then I noticed you shooting daggers at us, so I reckoned I was behaving too… familiar, and…”

 

“So you, uh, assumed we’re boyfriends? Shit, no no no.” Jean waved his hands frantically in front of him. “We’re nothing of that sort, like, at all. Like, never in a million years. Eren and me, that's a… hate-hate relationship?”

 

“It sounded like he’s terribly fond of you, though.”

 

Jean was baffled. He had totes expected Eren to shit talk him. He doubted that this sudden bout of altruism could be trusted.

 

“What? Does it surprise you that someone talks nice about you? You’re too modest for your own good. I’m sure you deserve it.” Under Marco’s open and warm gaze, Jean squirmed, but the bell saved him from further embarrassing observations. 

 

The rest of the school day was a hazy meditation of how divine a freckled cheek shaded by dark strands could look and the occasional elbow in his ribs from Mikasa.

 

As they filed out of class again, Jean mustered the courage to address Marco again. “Thanks again for helping me out with your shirt. I’ll wash it and return it tomorrow.”

 

“No, don’t worry, Jean. You can keep it.” That dazzling, slow smile again, and Jean’s stomach did some flips. “I actually quite like how it looks on you.” And with that, Marco was gone, leaving Jean open-mouthed like some freshly lobotomized labradoodle.

 

Eren slapped his back and nudged him forward. “Come on, man, you look as if you’re going to wet yourself. Not cool, my man. Get a grip and you might stand a chance with angel man.”

 

Jean eyed the brunet warily. “Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Yeager, you body snatcher?”

 

“Hey, don’t act as if I’m an asshole to you 120% of the time. Actually, I do like you about once a month. And I took pity in you when you worked so hard on your grand appearance just to have it soiled by some little punk.”

 

“Speaking of a great appearance, what’s all the metal for? Do you want to apply as lightning rod?” Mikasa chimed in.

 

“Et tu, Mikasa? Can’t a guy just care about his looks without getting shit for it?”

 

She shrugged. “If you change your looks so much you have to prepare for comments.”

 

**********

 

Jean totally did not intend to sleep in Marco’s shirt, because dude wouldn’t that be pathetic and creepy. It wasn’t his fault that he just  _ happened _ to still wear it when he fell asleep, was it?

 

It also wasn’t his intention to jack off in Marco’s shirt, because that would have been creepy and gross. You need to get off every now and again, and it wasn’t his fault that he just  _ happened _ to wear it while he did it.

 

He felt pretty disgusted by himself, because Marco was so beautiful, so kind and caring and friendly, he didn’t deserve it to become someone’s fapping material.

 

**********

 

The next morning, Jean decided against taking his coffee with him. He didn’t want to take any chances. In every other aspect, the day started unsettlingly similar to yesterday. A sunny day, little traffic and a parking space right in the first row of the lot. And crossing the schoolyard, he was greeted by the sight of Marco who helped a bunch of ninth graders fish their basketball out of a tree. His legs were wrapped around the tree trunk, and his shirt was riding up, revealing a admirable strip of backside.

 

Jean almost fell over his own feet. Marco really had to be an angel to help these cumbersome little snot noses. And… those thighs… firmly straddling the tree… that ass…  _ someone save me _ , that strip of freckled skin… Jean´s private little Marco vision from last night happily popped up in his mind. Fuck. He was so depraved. 

 

While Marco jumped down and came over to greet him, the tiniest - adorable - flush across his cheekbones and wiping his hands on his pants, Jean desperately struggled to collect himself, but he couldn't really meet those dark, unguarded eyes.

 

Suddenly, a cool hand pressed to his forehead. “Are you running a fever? You look awfully flushed.” 

 

Jean jerked back as if burned. “No, I just, ah, something dropped under the car seat and I had to dive down and look for it,” he rambled. Now that he was aware of it, his face flushed even brighter, and he hated the dull heat he could feel throbbing in his ears and cheeks.

 

Marco didn't look convinced. “Hmm. Hey, maybe you should drink something to cool down. Here, I have some homemade iced tea. I already drank from the bottle, but if you don't mind…” he grabbed a bottle from his backpack and held it out to Jean. 

 

He just stood there like an idiot, gawping at the bottle as if it was going to bite him. Marco's lips had touched it… he could barely suppress a whimper.

 

At his reluctance, Marco looked a tad hurt and made to store the bottle away with a “Well, never mind.”  _ Jean, you complete and utter fucktwit, you hurt him _ , he kicked himself inwardly. “No, I mean, yes, thank you. Actually, I´m a bit thirsty.” 

 

_ Actually, I'm hella thirsty and probably not in ways you would imagine. _

 

Jean accepted the bottle and tried not to listen to the little squealing of  _ indirect kiss! indirect kiss! _ in his head as he drank. The tea was cold and sweet and mellow and fucking perfect. As to be expected.

 

“Hmmm. That´s a really good tea.”

 

“Thank you. The secret is to add a hint of lime and some honey.” Marco looked very pleased with himself. As Jean passed the bottle back to him, he took a swig himself. Without hesitation, without even wiping it off. “It´s certainly uncool as hell, but I kinda like cooking and stuff. Especially sweets.”

 

They strolled towards the building. “What I need to find yet is a nice café here. Hey Jean, could you maybe show me around town some time? We've only moved here a couple of days before school started, and it's been pretty hectic, so I haven't really seen much yet. I bet you can show me all the cool places to hang out.”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure? Anytime you like.”

 

“What about today after school? Are you free then? Ah sorry, you're probably busy.”

 

“Nah, I'm free most of the time.”

 

“Really?” Marco shot him an incredulous look. “A popular guy like you?”

 

“Who are you mistaking for popular,” Jean replied and wanted to kick himself again.

 

**********

 

Jean did take Marco on a tour around town, and it was a fun afternoon. Afterwards, to Jean´s endless perplexity and amazement, Marco still seemed inclined to spend time with him. Marco was handsome, he was charming, he was smart. Everyone liked him. It was physically impossible not to like him. And yet he chose Jean, of all people, to be his friend. Of course Jean had friends, among them even some he didn't want to constantly throttle like Eren, but he couldn't grasp why  _ Marco  _ liked him. He felt he didn't deserve it. Around Marco, he was awkward and clumsy, he fumbled for words and behaved like the biggest dunce ever. But the freckled boy didn't seem to mind. He shot Jean a blinding smile every morning and seemed oblivious of his walking into doorposts and dropping everything.

 

One day, as they were at the mall, they came across a boutique that featured very curvy mannequins in very scant lingerie. They both halted for a moment, then Marco shook his head. “I'm too gay for this,” he stated with a hint of amusement and walked on.

 

When Jean didn't follow, he turned around. “You. Erm. What?” Jean sputtered.

 

Marco tilted his head. “Is that so much of a surprise for you? Sorry, I thought you'd figured. Gaydar out of function?”

 

Jean´s mouth snapped shut. Had he assumed Marco was straight? Now that he thought about it… he hadn't given it  _ any  _ thought. Marco was above such mundane things, so even if lewd visions of him haunted Jean every night, the real Marco was off limits. For everyone.

 

“Must have been,” he managed with a weak smile. “Sorry. I´m pan myself and act like a idiot at hearing you're gay. Doesn´t make any difference, does it?”

 

“Well, now that the topic is on… maybe it does make a difference. Jean, I've been meaning to ask this for a while now. I´d like to go out with you, like, a movie or something.”

 

“Uh, we do that all the time, what…”  _ Wait. What _ . “Oh. You mean… you mean, as a date?”

 

Marco sighed in fake exasperation, but a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yes. Will you, Jean Kirstein, go on a date with me?”

 

“I'd love to,” and then everything went white as Jean hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness.

 

**********

 

When he came to, he was lying on his back, and the white was replaced by a very ornate chandelier; royal blue, gold and cream wallpapers and a ridiculously plush, royal blue chaise longue. He had no idea where he was, how he had come here and what had happened.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake again,” Marco’s mellow voice came from his right. He sat on the edge of the chaise longue, held an empty  paper bag in one hand and had spread the other palm over Jean’s chest. “Don’t worry, you didn’t pass out for long.”

 

Jean looked around at the excessive decor. “Where are we?”

 

“Oh, the lingerie shop staff was frightened that their display made you faint and we’d sue them, so they helped me carry you inside. This is one of their changing rooms.”

 

“This,”, Jean waved an arm around, “is a changing room?”

 

“Yeah. Don’t read the price tags.” Marco put the paper bag aside and got a glass of cold orange juice from a side table. “Here, can you sit up and drink something?” He held the glass for Jean to sip on. A soft knock on the door announced the shop manager, a lady who Jean under other circumstances would have assumed to belong to high society, immaculately dressed and coiffured as she was. She voiced her concern about Jean’s well being, was immensely relieved to hear he would live (and refrain from suing her ass) and insisted they stay as long as necessary. Then she offered coffee and snacks and retreated.

 

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing,” Jean muttered. Marco placed a hand to his cheek and gave him a reassuring smile.

 

“It’s somehow really endearing and flattering that me asking you out for a date could knock you flat. Let’s see - I never kiss on the first date, not to mention before that, but as compensation I’ll make an exception with you.” With that, he leaned in and kissed Jean, softly and sweetly and with a hint of orange flavor, and Jean’s skin broke into gooseflesh from his scalp all the way down to his toes, and he could have sworn that for a moment he left his own body.

 

They left the shop with the best wishes from the staff ladies, 10% discount coupons that they’d never collect, and a couple of complimentary lacy thongs for their nonexistent “young ladies”.

 

**********

 

On this note, Jean’s ordeal in heaven begun. They were official - really and truly boyfriends, and he had to pinch himself every day, repeatedly, to make sure it was real and not just some  _ Inception _ style hallucination. Marco was the sweetest, cutest, best boyfriend anybody could wish for. Good night texts on his cellphone. Little notes exchanged under the tables in the classroom until even Eren and Mikasa got fed up. Delicious little treats exclusively made for him. Holding hands in the cinema and shared ice cream cones in the park. 

 

Each and every little gesture made Jean unfailingly weak in the knees, and that new, special smile that was reserved for Jean and Jean only - that smile that made Marco’s eyes light up like stars - had him all doe-eyed and near drooling. He continued walking into doorposts and dropping things, now raised by the power of two.

 

Jean was absolutely, squarely, totally smitten. Many of his daydreams included Marco in a white suit, with soft music playing in the background and pink flower petals slowly drifting around.

 

Jean was also very, very horny.

 

But no. Marco was such a pure angel, so sweet and kind and innocent, he must not tarnish him in this way. Eren couldn’t believe it when he figured what was going on (or rather, what was not going on).

 

“What the fuck, Jeanbo? You finally score a boyfriend and you still don’t get laid?”

 

“Marco isn’t like that, dildo brain.”

 

Eren snorted. “Dude, stop putting him on a pedestal and put him in your bed. He wants the D. I have no clue why he wants  _ your _ malformed sad excuse of a D, but trust me, he does. Plus your jizz will start spilling out of your ears if you keep this up.”

 

“God, did you listen in sex ed 101 at all?”

 

**********

 

Fuck Yeager and his dirty mind. Seriously, fuck him. But what if…? Marco was made of flesh and blood after all, so he surely had… urges. And thinking about it, he often complimented Jean on his physical appearance. He liked it when Jean wore tight, low-riding jeans and snug shirts. Playfully nipped at the ring in his lip when they kissed. Placed hands on his hips and waist whenever possible. Waggled his eyebrows with a grin when Jean had to bend over and pick up a pen/phone/scarf/book he had dropped again.

 

Maybe he was just waiting for Jean to finally get his shit together and man up. Jean might think of Marco as pure and innocent, but the one behaving like a frazzled spinster was himself.

 

Coming to this conclusion, Jean groaned in frustration, threw away his pen and buried his head in his arms.

 

There was no way, absolutely no fucking way he could initiate any frickfracking with his sweet angel boy. Things like kissing already turned him into a gibbering mess, so casually asking “Hey, wanna go down and dirty” would no doubt lead to one of the rare spontaneous combustions in history.

 

“... Earth to Jean, do you copy?” A soothing hand on his back. Jean snapped back to reality. Oh, right. He was at Marco's place and they were supposed to revise on calculus.

 

He blinked up at Marco. “Sorry. I'm just finding it really hard to concentrate today. And that dimwit Yeager…” He trailed off.

 

Marco chuckled. “Did you two fight again? You know, sometimes I get a little jealous. Because you wouldn't argue that much if you didn't care for him. Okay, let's call it a day, baby. Come here.” He pulled Jean into his lap, let him bury his face in the crook of his neck, and lightly trailed his hands up and down his back. “Better?”

 

Jean melted into the touch. “Hm-hmm.”

 

Marco pulled back a little to press a kiss to his lips, then took in his boyfriend's appearance. “You mussed up your hair. Almost looks like a bedhead.” He kissed him again, more firmly this time. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped an octave, deep and sweet and sinful like molten chocolate. “Baby, do you want to make out?”

 

Jean´s whole body shivered, and his thighs involuntarily squeezed tight on Marco´s hips. Very slowly, Marco's lips were on his again, tongue darting out to play with lip piercing and gently coax his mouth open. Breathing turned ragged when their tongues met, hesitant first and then with growing confidence. Jean moaned softly when Marco licked at the barbell in his tongue.

 

Marco looked at him again, and Jean thought about what a mess he must look like, beet red and panting from just a little kissing.

 

“Damn, you're so  _ cute  _ when you get all flustered and embarrassed, Jean.” A line of kisses trailed down his neck, pausing to circle the vampire bite piercing. In their wake, Jean felt like the skin was burning up. 

 

“It makes me want to eat you up.” Hot breath washed over the dampened skin of his neck. 

 

“Or maybe eat you  _ out _ .”

 

And in this moment, Jean had one of those rare, only ever whispered about, honest-to-god revelations that leave you with a “gosh damn, was I  _ stupid  _ all these years.” It was no contradiction to be kind-hearted, helpful and caring  _ and  _ horny. Purity of the heart and soul had nothing to do with experiencing and acting on sexual desire. Wanting to have sex, and having sex, didn´t taint or dirty your personality. In other words, Marco was totally capable of laying waste to Jean´s ass and still help old ladies across the street. Jean had fallen victim to the generations old brainwashing that chastity equals purity.

 

He took a deep breath and tightened the grip of his arms and legs around Marco. “Y-yeah? Tell me more about it.”

 

Surprise flashed across Marco´s dark eyes, but it was quickly replaced by hunger. “So you'd like that? Want me to lick and suck you until your hole is all slick and soft, then fuck you with my tongue?” His hands settled on Jean´s ass and he rocked his hips slightly, smiling at the fell of Jean´s hardening cock against his.

 

Feeling bolder, Jean dived in for another deep kiss, mapping out Marco's chest with his fingers and unable to resist the need to grind down on him. “Yeah, I'd love that, angel” he panted in between kisses. “And so much more… wanna make you feel good, too.”

 

“I want you to blow me - ever since I've seen your tongue piercing, I've been wanting to feel it sliding up and down my cock…”

 

“All you had to do was ask,” Jean attempted to summon some cockiness.

 

“Babe, if I had asked you earlier, you would have dropped dead,” Marco replied dryly, and they giggled a little before they resumed kissing and feeling each other up, hands restlessly sliding under garments.

 

“What else do you want? Do you want to fuck some day?” Marco asked as they broke up for some air.

 

“God, yes.” Jean was feeling increasingly dizzy and hot, so terribly turned on by their incessant grinding as well as listening to his boyfriend.

 

“Top or bottom? Or both?”

 

“Ah, both… but I haven´t…”

 

“Shh, it's all good. We'll take our time. I'll make sure you´ll feel nothing but good, babe. Gonna rim you a couple of times, and then finger you until I know all the spots where you like it best. Fuck, you´ll look breathtaking when I spread you open and suck you off until you come over and over again.”

 

His hands had moved to the insides of Jean´s thighs, spreading them farther and tracing circles into the clothed skin, only inches away from his aching cock, but god did the tight jeans and rhythmic thrusting make some divine friction. And Marco speaking like this did things to Jean, things he'd never thought possible. He'd always loved Marco´s voice, felt it caressing his skin and tingling down his spine, but  _ this…  _ before he knew it, he started babbling, begging Marco to keep talking, “please angel, don´t stop,” and he was happily indulged.

 

“And when we've done that some times, and when you're ready and  _ begging  _ to be filled up, I´ll give you my cock, and you'll be so stretched and full… you could sit on me like this and ride me to your heart's content, or I could get you on all fours and fuck you nice and slow and deep until you're screaming my name…”

 

Jean had held onto Marco´s neck, hips moving faster and faster, but now he went tense and still and let out a strangled little groan. Marco slung his arms around his back and held him while he went limp.

 

“Tssk, and I haven't even gotten to the good part where you plow my ass and fuck me against the wall.”

 

“Oh god, I'm so sorry,” Jean mumbled against his neck, mortified that he'd just gotten off dryhumping against his boyfriend like a dog in heat.

 

“Babe, it´s all good. At least now we know that you  _ definitely  _ like dirty talk.”

 

“You could say that,” Jean chuckled. “Hmm, you said something about me sucking you off?”

 

“Maybe we should save that up for later and get tested first.”

 

“Okay.” Jean hummed thoughtfully. “But there´s nothing to say against a handjob. I have plenty of experience - on myself, that is… and so far I have never heard any complaints from myself.”

 

Marco laughed, albeit a little breathlessly, as Jean popped open the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. And good lord, Marco´s dick was as gorgeous and mouthwatering as the rest of him, and despite the yucky wetness in his boxers Jean almost grew hard again while he reached between them and stroked Marco until he came with closed eyes and the most delicious little noises.

 

**********

 

During the next weeks and months, they did everything as promised, and much more. Jean continued walking into doorposts and spilling his water whenever Marco's smile flashed his way and blinded him, and he came to accept it as part of his life. He had always been a dork around Marco, and if his boyfriend didn't care, then he wouldn't either. In his eyes, Marco didn't lose his status as angel, either… even if he was an angel come down to earth with a wicked wink and the voice of sin incorporated.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I admit this was pretty self indulgent too, because I LIVE for flustered Jean and also voice kink is MY kink okay. Sue me.
> 
> You can find my SNK and personal blog under [glassesgirl0401](http://glassesgirl0401.tumblr.com)


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